There was a small vineyard at the back of the inn, which they walked through, the old man keeping up a continued flow of questions and exclamations, to which the girl did not deign to reply. At the further end of the middle walk stood a poor-looking summerhouse; the shutters were closed, and inside a thick curtain hung behind the glass door. The landlord made Fenice stop a little way from this pavilion, and went up to the door, which was opened when he knocked. Fenice noticed how the curtain was then drawn on one side, and a pair of eyes looked out at her. Then the old man came back to her and said that the gentlemen would speak to her. As Fenice entered the pavilion, a man, who had been sitting at the table with his back to the door, rose from his seat and gave a sharp and penetrating look at her. Two other men remained seated. On the table she saw bottles of wine and glasses. "Is Signor Filippo, the lawyer, not coming according to promise?" asked the man before whom she stood. "Who are you, and what verification have you of your message?" "I am Fenice Cattaneo, sir; a maiden from Treppi. Verification? I have none, except that I am speaking the truth." "Why is he not coming? We thought he was a man of honour." "And he is so still; but he has fallen from a rock and hurt his head and legs, and is unconscious." Her interlocutor exchanged looks with the other man, and then said: "You betray the truth at all events, Fenice Cattaneo, because you do not understand how to lie. If he had lost consciousness, how could he send you here to tell us of it?" [Illustration: "IS SIGNOR FILIPPO NOT COMING?"] "Speech came back to him at intervals. And he then said that he was expected here at the inn; I was to let you know what had happened to him." One of the other men gave a short, dry laugh. "You see," said the speaker, "these gentlemen do not believe much of your tale either. Certainly it is easier to play the poet than the man of honour." "If, Signor, you mean by that that Signor Filippo has not come here out of cowardice, then it is an abominable falsehood, and may heaven reckon it to you!" She said this fiercely, and looked at them all three in succession. "You wax warm, little one," scoffed the man. "You are doubtless Signor Filippo's sweetheart, eh?" "No, the Madonna knows I am not!" replied she in her deepest voice. The men whispered together, and she heard one of them say: "That nest up there is Tuscan still."--"You don't seriously believe in this dodge?" asked the third. "He is no more at Treppi than----" Their whispering was interrupted by Fenice: "Come and see for yourselves! But you must not carry arms if I am to be your guide." "Foolish child," said the first speaker, "do you think that we would take the life of so pretty a creature as you?" "No, but his life; I feel sure you would." "Have you any other conditions to make, Fenice Cattaneo?"